Devotion
by FerrumVigro
Summary: In Which the "Last Resort" was taken. AU. During/After The High Lord.
1. Watching and Waiting

_**Disclaimer:** I dont own any of the characters, places or anything else you recognize, they all belong to Trudi canavan. I make no money from any of this._

_**Summary:** In Which the " Last Resort" was taken. AU. During/after The High Lord._

_A/N: Sorry for the sudden change but I've decided, after a lot of thought, to re-edit this whole story, and create something, hopefully, better than that which was originally posted. I started this in 2010 and feel that I have grown a little since then in terms of skill. 'Devotion' is one of the first stories I posted and I had always hoped to rewrite it someday. So here it is, although theres a few things you should take into account before reading-_

_-**Most, but not all, chapters will be edited although some of the original content from the first post will remain. If you've read this before you will most likely recognise it.**_

_**-The plot has changed ever-so slightly and I hope to make it clearer this time around and give the story a little more depth.**_

_Again I am sorry for taking six steps back, but it is hopefully one forward. If you have any questions PM me and I'll get to back to you when I can._

_**'StuffRocksInnit'** kindly beta-ed this for me, so a MASSIVE Thank you! to her. _

* * *

**_The Last Resort: __The only option left when all others have been exhausted. Used in times of despe__rate need._**

* * *

The private room on the left contained a single iron framed bed, a reber-wool mattress and blanket, a plain bedside table, a wooden bedside chair and a small cabinet which contained a few things of this and that. It was plain and simple, nothing special, just like the rest of the wards within the Healers Quarter, and it did the job of providing a comfortable place to recover. This is what they had decided therefore this was how it remained.

The small room was lit by the low light of a lone globe that hovered above the bed, which made it possible for the room to be seen yet soft enough that it was possible to ignore, the room was cast in comfortable shadow. This light, which did not belong to either of the rooms two occupants, made Lady Vinara sigh in defeat at the sight it illuminated; the small figure resting their head on the bed, fast asleep.

This time she did not disturb the room with her presence. Too many times within the last two weeks had she found a slouched and tired figure resting in that chair, an empty bed in the following room. They had warned and scolded and advised and pleaded, but their words were never heeded.

Vinara sighed and resisted the urge to remove the young woman; instead she slowly eased the door ajar and quietly continued her shift on the ward, letting her globe light remain behind within the room.

Passing the expected empty room she could not help but allow a small sad smile to show despite her displeasure.

Sonea had not left his side throughout the last few weeks even though he had never wakened since that devastating day, even though she needed rest herself and recovery, even though she was asked and scolded and begged; Sonea remained devoted to the man. Yet there was a difference that set her apart from the others.

Vinara saw.

She saw what others did not, the private interactions between Sonea and Akkarin. She had seen the look in Sonea's eyes when she looked upon his sleeping form, the way in which she would softly brush his cheek with her hand when she thought no one else could see, how she would sit in that chair day in and out while throughout the night simply watching…waiting… showing strong such devotion…

Sonea's feelings ran deeper than what the rest of the guild and city believed, and Lady Vinara kept what she suspected to herself in silent respect for the two.

Yet she wished she never had seen, she wished she didn't know.

Her views of the younger woman had changed for good.

Such devotion.

Yet Akkarin failed to ever wake.

* * *

She didn't mind. Not in the slightest. It was expected and natural and completely fine by her.

He would wake.

Sonea eased herself into the wooden chair and pulled the blanket she had borrowed-_stolen_-from her bed in the neighboring room tighter to her so that it met at the front.

'_It's slightly chilly tonight…'_

She lifted her legs up and tucked them under her to keep her bare feet warm and reached a hand over to touch the bed before her, and with a push of her thought, she sent a wave of energy evenly over the mattress, warming it pleasantly.

'_There, that'll help keep the chill from his bones,'_

Smiling, she ran her hand lightly over the blanket she sighed lightly when she reached his own warm one; she entwined her fingers though his long pointed digits and raised her eyes to his sleeping face.

'_He looks so peaceful….after everything he deserves as much…'_

After everything, wasn't rest all everyone wanted? she thought, carefully studying his relaxed features and unbidden the darkened thought of his near death, the never-ending rest, plagued her.

'_Do you want to waken?'_

He would wake. So Sonea did not mind his sleep. It was only natural. He was resting. She had taken two days to recover and even then she still had little energy; not even enough to form a globe light or to warm herself. And she had only been exhausted during the battle, Akkarin had been drained of all energy…all life...

She exhaled sharply and shook her head to clear such thoughts and pulled her chair closer to the bed, closer to his warmth, and lowered her head. She watched his face as she softly caressed his fingers and palm, noticing the slight flare of his nostrils as he exhaled, the little movements of his eyes under closed eyelids. His face wasn't just shadowed by the faint globe light above; he needed a shave. The slight stubble made her smile.

'_I'll do that for you tomorrow, in the morning, before Lady Vinara arrives_.'

She would often speak to him within her own mind, especially when touching him, secretly hoping that somehow he may hear her. No-one had been able to enter his mind since they had revived him. To her, it seemed that the darkness that had been so close to capturing him had swallowed his mind, or blocked any access to it. No thoughts, dream or otherwise, came from his slumbering form yet he was still there. Breathing, living; simply sleeping a sleep too deep for any of them to penetrate.

It depressed her, yet she assured herself he was still _there._ Akkarin's presence had not vanished; it was there, hidden within that darkness. Faint and fleeting, but still pulsing.

Shifting, she moved her other arm up and raised her head so that it rested in the crook of her arm, moving their hands as she stirred.

Even in the faint light, his blood-gem caught her eye as the shine passed over it and she turned her gaze and thoughts to it.

They had left it untouched from the battle.

It is useless anyway, she thought spitefully, almost angrily, a scowl briefly gracing her face. Her own remained hidden in her own pocket, always within reach yet never in sight. She didn't know how the Higher magicians would react upon knowing she had Akkarin's blood-ring.

'_Many may get the wrong idea, hmm, with you giving me a ring before battle.' _

She got no response but liked to imagine that he would be smirking at her.

Right idea or wrong idea…

Perhaps deep within her she hoped it was the right and in some way, she mused, it was. They were together now, had been, and were still…something…right? Or wrong?

It confused her, so many things needed done and asked and she just didn't have the strength to concentrate, neither mentally or emotionally, never mind physically as she was reminded at each corner.

Her health still wasn't up to standard and wouldn't be for quite some time, until she had Akkarin's' well-being sorted in some form. It just didn't feel right leaving him alone, under the care of those who had banished him-_them, us-_and she suspected this had to do with the many weeks when they were all each other had, with a homeland that distrusted them to save it. Those sorts of situations did things to people.

She also suspected it had a lot to do with him almost dying for her and their motherland. It definitely had roots within the warmth he gave her, the times they had slept together, the happiness his mere presences gave her; that devotion from her days, not so long ago, when she was his novice. Her love for him.

Perhaps.

Right.

Maybe. It was useless anyway.

No, she thought forcefully, it was not, none of it was useless, yet she could still feel the depressing thought burn her.

She forced her gaze from the ring. Perhaps she should take it off, he couldn't use it and it only made her think of things she couldn't afford to think of or remember.

Returning her eyes to his sleeping face calmed her. He was peaceful, wasn't he, so why couldn't she be, just for now.

Sometimes…sometimes she thought that if she stared hard enough or thought strong enough or held tight enough, that she would get _something_ in return from him, _anything._ A flicker of dark orbs or a quirk of those lips, a touch from those fingers, a brush from his mind. Gods how she wanted him back…

How could one man crawl under her skin and into her life so deeply that every day without him pained her in ways she never thought possible?

No one had taught her loving another so deeply could cause such pain and hurt.

Yet as she watched him, searched his face and ran her gaze over his exposed neck, it was all worth it. This man was worth it.

He had proven himself too many times over.

That day of the battle drew the line and closed over any doubts for her and for what she hoped were many Imardin citizens fears. This man loved his city, his people, enough to die for them.

And that is why she had done all within her power to save him then.

From the moment he had reached out and tightly grasped her arm, his life had been in her hands, and in those moments she hadn't even realized. The jar of her knees hitting the ground from his weight on top of her hadn't been enough to force her mind to work. She had been in shock, paralyzed in fear as she'd taken in his paling and pained face. Not even his blood, the jeweled blade rammed deep into his chest, could force her into action. It all happened too quickly and then he'd been on his back, his face full of pain as blood trickled through his pale fingers.

Her thoughts had been clumsy, brash, and all she could think was '_Heal, heal him, stop the blood, HEAL HIM.' _Yet his strong grip and hissed "_Not yet._" had stopped her, not making any sense to her blurred mind.

Kariko's harsh laughter abusing her ears, his sneering tone of _"So, _that's _where I left my knife.", _had the same effect as a bowl of ice water on her face; her blood had chilled to the bone, her heart slowed. Her mind had slowly tried to work as she'd gazing unseeing at Akkarin, and again she watched as Kariko dropped his knife into the ground, setting his trap. And they had walked right into it. Well, Akkarin had. And she had never felt rage like it.

As Akkarin's voice had drawn her from her thoughts and to the flashes enlightening his face she had looked up at the three Magicians defending from the tower above. She'd time, she could do it, she could save him. It had been an unexplainable emotion that had flown threw her then; she hadn't looked back at him, couldn't, and set her sight on an unseen structure. Rising from his fallen form, she'd forced herself up and away, pushed the fear and longing to look back at him and help but she assured herself that her doing this _was _her saving him, no matter how much it hurt. She had sprinted, pushed what energy she had into getting to the Arena whilst keeping her gaze on Rothen and Balkan, making sure they continued to defend Akkarin.

It was a blur.

The flow of power from the Arena had been immense, overpowering and it had blinded her as she'd drained what she could as fast as she could, all the while watching and listening for the others.

Her chest had ached running back, struggling to pull enough oxygen into her lungs, her legs had threaten to drop her weight with each pounding step she'd taken.

Rothen had called out to her as she made the turn to the front of the University, it'd been weak, exhausted and faint and as soon as that turn had been made she'd seen why. The three Magicians could not hold Kariko off any longer and the Black Magician had advanced until he had stood over Akkarin's pone form. There he had stood smirking, his hand raised, palm out.

She had simply lost it, given herself over to the fear, panic and anger that spread up her spine. Her hate for the Ichani, for the man who had hunted Akkarin like some slum-rodent for years and shadowed whatever happiness he could ever have gained, burned in her veins and she had hummed with the Arenas power. She'd raised her own palm and in a heartbeat, a flash of blinding light and smoldering heat, the air shook with the power and she'd focused all it on the Ichani before her.

The next few moments had been a blur to her.

Collapsing by Akkarin's' side; he was passed out, he was pale, dieing, _gone,_ her hands on him, pulling the knife out, pulling at the ripped robes, her hands pale, covered in his lukewarm blood, on his cooling, still _unmoving, _chest. Panic, and she had reached for whatever she had left and pushed herself, all that she was, into him, searching, stitched flesh and repairing severed blood paths, she healed torn tissue and skin, poured energy into the heart's main muscles and ordered it to _pump, _to beat, to _work_ and warm him, to bring him back.

She remembered searching his mind, calling out to him only to receive no answer and to find darkness where there should have been light, _life._

Upon opening her eyes, he had looked as though sleeping, as he had ever since. His heart continued to beat, his body continued to function, returned from the edge and yet…Akkarin remained gone.

She'd barely left him since.

Too weak. Too afraid.

Of far too many things.

Was he gone? Had he let go thinking she had run in fear and left him there to die?

Her thoughts often took such paths and lead her into haunted dreams.

She hadn't slept a full night in weeks and it was one of the main problems affecting her health.

She dreamt of him, of the battle, of him never waking, of him dying then and there on the cold ground with Kariko's blade stuck through his chest. Cruel laughter invaded her sleep and in the grasp of a nightmare, she failed to pull herself away from Akkarin, failed to save him.

Therefore she had taken to coming to his room and watching his chest rise and fall as life surged through him and she would imagine when he would wake. On nights when she could no longer keep sleep from her, his resting face and even breathing was enough to chase away the nightmares for her to regain enough energy to rise when the morning came.

Pulling herself from her thoughts once more she wondered if tonight would be such a night. Would his easy breathing lure her into a decent nights rest tonight? She wasn't as exhausted as usual so doubted she would, she only usually slept soundly, however how little, when near collapsing point.

No wonder Rothen looked as bad as her; he slept as much as she did. At the thought of the man, she smiled in fondness at the only fatherly figure she'd had. Uncle Ranel had always been just that; Uncle Ranel, so Rothen took the place where a father may stand in her life.

Such thoughts lead her mind from one to the next and she let it drift, pleased that she could smile with each one.

Akkarin's' wound was healing nicely, his heart-rate and breathing-rate were normal, and his brain was in perfect health despite being starved of oxygen for a short period; his magic-store was slowly, painfully so, returning. Lady Vinara made sure to inform her each day on how he was doing. The older woman had been strangely kind to her since their return, to the point where Sonea had found herself seeking the woman out for company; those days were filled with side glances and unwanted questions on her health which she avoided along with the scolding's. It was nice though, to know others cared for her well-being.

Thoughts like this made her smile grow.

Sighing softly, she once again rested her head on the bed and tightened her grip on Akkarin's hands, watching carefully for any sign of movement.

She felt his warmth through the bedclothes, his heat, smelt his scent that had embedded itself within the thick fibers. She closed her eyes at the sound of his even breathing and felt his unresponsive touch on her hand.

Still smiling, she buried her head into the blanket, grasped his hand tighter and pulled it to her, kissing his knuckles and keeping her lips there, brushing against his skin.

She lay there, still and silent, breathing him in, touching and tasting him, until he was all that she knew in the small bare room. Her thoughts took her back to another time, a similar yet somehow simpler time, when he had been all she knew; his heat, his touch, his taste. Back then his breathing hadn't been so even, his touch hadn't been as still and unresponsive.

Instead of the heat she felt now, he had burned and she had blazed with him, for him.

'_You will again,' _she didn't tell him but promised, _'We will again. I always will, for you.'_

He would wake.

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Please review! I really need feedback from this, this time around!-pouts-


	2. The Reward of Patience: Part One

_**Disclaimer:** Do Not Own._

_**A/N:** Unbeta-ed. Any mistakes are mine so please shout out if you spot them and I'll get them sorted. Sorry it took so long. Also decided that this will not follow The Traitor Spy Trillogy, saying as I only read the first one and never finished the second-got bored of it I'm afraid. Off you go._

* * *

_Tick. Tick. Tock._

He had never considered himself a musical person, but the constant ringing of a distance clock sounded awfully beautiful to him.

Or was it a watch?

The simple rhythm played in tune with his beating heart and it was this which assured him that he was, indeed; alive.

Yet the darkness that surrounded him, the terrible blankness and _nothingness_, made him question this. How can one be alive and yet be nothing at all. When he had realised that he was in fact a working conscience, that he had a mind and he knew exactly who he was therefore he must have a working body to accompany it as such. He had expected to be seated in an elegant, domed room of rich mahogany wood surrounded by lives keepsakes, golden memories framing the high walls. However instead of the comfort of his own mind he woke (was he awake?) to darkness.

And the ticking of a clock.

Or was it a watch?

_Tick. Tick. Tock._

His father had once owned a large golden pocket-watch that usually would have appeared in moments of impatience; snapped open, looked upon with a sigh, snapped shut and tucked away. It had been a thing of beauty, elegantly engraved and expertly crafted; it had been as much apart of his fathers person as his own hands and it had been cared for as such. When he had been a child he had seen that watch quite a lot. As a boy, moments spent with his father had been formal meetings where lessons were taught with silence, rules obeyed and a perfect young lord had sat and listened to the sound of a awfully loud pocket-watch. He had hated that watch; hated that it could invade the thick silence between father and son. For surly such a silence should not exist between the two, a father and only son, an heir; there should have been inspiriting lectures and speeches of pride and yet there was silence; and the mere presence of that watch had proved the cruel truth that it was and always had been there. However it had held a comfort within its chiming tone; it brought the familiarity of home, the presence of his father, of family and belonging.

Odd, that it should come to mind now after all these years.

It had been an heirloom.

"_My father gave it to me the day he deemed me a man… my wedding day actually…I had been so proud…I've wore it everyday of my life…"_

His father had never deemed him a man, though he suspected he would've pasted the watch on the day of his graduation. Instead he had received the watch at the age of thirteen, on a spring morning as a servant threw a black heavy long-coat around his shoulders. His uncle had handed it to him with silence; gentle ticking loud and strong, out of tune with it's late owners still, unmoving, heart.

He had stood in black silk by the side of his mourning mother, his fathers remains in the ground before him, that golden trinket heavy upon his breast, that awfully loud ticking penetrating his thoughts.

The watch ticked on and on and on…bringing comfort to his grieving heart which had beat on and on and…

He'd lost the House of Velan's heirloom years ago.

But the ticking was still there. It was here now and it was beautiful.

_Tick. Tick. Tock._

_How long has it been…how long have I been here…_

It seemed that all there was here was the passage of time, leaking away through his fingers with the beautiful ticking yet he had no concept of it.

'_Am I in a coma? Lying trapped within my own being…my mind is weak…my body exhausted…power…failing to regenerate…'_

Had he been able to fully comprehend his situation he would have wondered at how he had the ability to think and _be_ yet not be himself. For he wasn't himself, there was only dark here and nothingness; tendons of blackness holding him within a suffocating grip. He wanted to tear free from their caresses, he wanted to pull and grasp and rip at it until there was something to hold on to in the vast emptiness.

'_I'm tired of this darkness…this nothing…I want…I need…something. Anything…but darkness…Someone…'_

He knew he could handle things by himself, he had handled so much alone in his life…until…

Until Sonea.

_Sonea. Sonea. Sonea._

Her name rang through the dark shadows surrounding him, sounding with the ticking, delight seaming through the dark like light with the dawn and he realised that he had something to hold on to.

Sonea, she was his light in a world where he thought light to be non-existence…she shone with her dark eyes and silk soft locks, pale smooth skin and full captivating lips. She was so beautiful; body and mind and soul and…where was she. She had knelt by his side when he last seen her, dressed in black robes, a look of pain and terror upon her soft features-

He remembered.

Suddenly with a wave of shock he remembered; his mind sparked to life with an explosion of energy, a floodgate had been opened and a tsunami of memories washed over his slowly awakening mind.

_Sachaka, the Ichani. Imardin falling to ruins as the outcasts tore their way through her walls, violating her people and taking what they deemed stolen. Theirs to take. Kariko had made it to the Guild walls, facing he and Sonea. The Arena- "Wait…the Ichani are weakening…" and then pain. Blinding pain and he had fallen, taking Sonea with him, horror and shock, plain confusion, twisting her features…he was injured, could not breathe or heal, not yet. NOT. YET, not while the Ichani stood in front of them; not with Kariko within his grasp._

_Sonea needed to finish it, to end it all. Only then could he think of himself. But Sonea…had gone…ran as waves of power shone from above as though from the Heavens and he…he had been left to stare at the sky and feel his heartbeat slow._

He felt pain at this, deeper than that of the knife in his chest. But he refused to dwell on it. There was a reluctance to believe that Sonea, his Sonea who was too stubborn to turn her back and run from anything, would flee and leave him when all they had worked so had for was at a close. So he simply didn't…there had been more…

_Footsteps_.

Yes.

_Kariko prowling over to his still form. A nudge from his foot to the chest. A flare of pain. He had been using what little strength he had to keep the pain at bay and to remain conscious. It was fading too fast._

"_Aww…so, you still live. How pleasant, now I can watch as the life drains from your eyes, little slave." And through his clouded vision, as the darkness crept along its edge, he watched as a large, tanned and scarred hand had risen. _

_Tick. Tock._

So, he had died.

Kariko had fulfilled his brotherly promise to Dakova after all those years.

He had failed to protect his city, his motherland and her people.

Sonea…the Guild…the thieves…what hope was there now for those who remained. The Ichani were merciless, he knew this first-hand and they would harvest and drain Kyralia until the lands represented an extension of the Wastes. It would not be long until she was claimed by Sachaka. The Ichani welcomed home with open arms.

It disgusted him. He had hoped for so long that if he were to spend the rest of his days fighting off and destroying the Ichani, masking Kyralia's' weakness, that he would die a happy and proud man. He would die being that man and yet now…now he was simply dead, a failure, his sufferings and hardships meaningless. He felt no honour.

What was such a thing as Honour to a dead man.

He was nothing. At one with the darkness surrounding him.

But the clock, the watch, the ticking told him otherwise. His memories pooled at the back of his mind brushing his consciousness with flashes of Sonea's' face, of Kariko's' raised hand.

The darkness stirred around him. The tendons shifted their heavy grip yet remained.

Something wasn't quite right.

There had been no flash of burning heat to engulf him or burst of mind-numbing agony. There had simply been nothing. As there was now. Had Kariko attacked him, ending him or he had simply passed out from blood loss and lack of power.

Useless…

_Tick…_

He had never gotten the chance to strike_._

Was it possible. Could Kariko have been interrupted in his attack on him?

The more he focused on it the more he believed he had passed out before Kariko had struck yet that did not mean the Ichani had not killed him; perhaps silencing his heart as the darkness drew him in.

…_Tock… _

No.

He had a heartbeat. He _was _alive. That old, familiar ticking proved it.

Around him, the darkness seemed to fold in upon itself. The grasp on his being slackened.

He was on the right path now, he could feel it. Like facing an opponent in the Arena, one had to learn the others weak points, that special little spot where one good hit could end it all.

He was missing something. Something important. Something…missing…

Sonea.

Where had she gone to…

Had she returned to him then? In those last fatal moments.

Where had she gone t-

'_Ahh…my clever, disobedient girl.' _

The Arena_. _

_Tick._

Within his cocoon of darkness and shadow, a small, dim, speck of light appeared at the end of a tunnel and like a stray to warmth; he moved closer to it and as he did so, he could feel his hopes rising, the darkness fading around him.

_Perhaps we won. Perhaps the Ichani are no more and Sonea is safe. Maybe, with time and effort, Imardin will heal and prosper again. The Guild will grow and learn from the mistakes made. Perhaps…_

And still the light grew as he made his way towards it, delight and hope filling the space the darkness had once captured.

As he moved closer to the light source, he felt himself grow stronger. More solid and slowly, another soft rhythm played in tune with the ticking. Footsteps again, but this time his own, and he emerged from the darkness and shadows, into the light corridor of his own mind.

Distantly he felt his power-store flare; he became aware that he had a body, somewhere far from his reach. It was exhausted but he reached his senses out to touch it and relished in the joy it bought him.

He _was._

Slowly, almost delicately so, he moved back into the familiar space of his own mind and the darkness sank away, banished back to wherever it came from. He took a moment to quieten his emotions, to settle and familiarise the bond between his mind and body.

Lords, he hurt! He could dimly feel his physical self, as though from a distance or through fogged glass. He had connections, limits to his senses but they were not completely repaired just yet, he could not move; that would take time. His body ached from his muscles to his bones. A deep burning, pulsing pain surrounded his chest where he suspected where Kariko's' mark would forever scaled. His body screamed at him for rest, that it needed to heal and restore itself; he just had to wait. But he pushed past the tightness of pain and exhaustion to sense the area surrounding him.

He was warm, so very warm and comfortable despite the pain. He focused on his other physically senses to help him; his eyes would not budge, too heavy with sleep to do anything but respond to the subconscious, his tongue felt as though made of copper, his mouth tasteless, and there was a constant ringing in his ears; but he could smell and from the sterile chemicals infiltrating his nostrils he knew himself to be within the Healers Quarters of the Magicians Guild of Imardin, city of Kyralia.

He was _home_.

This realisation made his heart jump. And he started at the hard truth, the fact, that he _did_ have a heartbeat. He could now feel it heavy within his aching chest.

_But how_…_How…How is it possible…_

Questions flooded his mind but he knew it was too soon to do anything but give into his body's needs. He needed to rest; needed recovery, his exhausted mind and body was screaming to just let go.

But he was reluctant do so with the knowledge and discovery that he was once again a working conscious with a body; like a child born with the self-conscious to know what a miracle it truly was. Now that he had returned, he had no longing to pass over to darkness again, even in the bliss of sleep.

_Tick. Lub. Tock._

Instead, he formed his minds-room; the mahogany chairs of his fathers study, the bookcases and the old engraved, redwood desk, placed within the domed walls of his childhood bedroom; over the years it had grown in size, expanding and lengthening until it was nothing but his childhood room in name and knowledge, he had grown out of it long ago. From the few windows, outside in the distance, stood the shadow of the Guild, the lights of Imardin flickering like stars; a view that remained true to the rooms nature. He had grown up with such a view and the beauty of it remained through the years. Here and there, placed around the room lay pieces of his life; his old, brown, novice robes lay in a heap on the floor next to a bed; discarded, the red Warrior robes stood out proudly from their place in the open wardrobe next to a range of clothing from different cultures and customs. On the bed lay a small game set, made from wood and next to it, folded over the end board of the bed, curled a belt, the glimmer of gems pronouncing from its pocket. On the desk, where he found himself sat, there was little to see. A empty frame and unlit lamp.

He lit the lamp and blinked.

An old pocket watch lay upon the desk, strained in blood and grim, its engravings dented beyond repair; as though someone had found it amidst the murk on left it there for him to find. He slipped it open, the glass was cracked but not yet broken; tick…tick…tick. The little hands twitched with time and life despite its damage. The room grew warmer.

He stared at the empty frame and fought the lure of sleep.

It felt so good to be back. He had many questions yet knew none would be answered for quite some time. He let his shoulders drop and rested his arms on the dark wood, his chin in hand.

He wondered how long. He wondered how badly damaged his body was, he was no Healer, he did not know these things. Sonea would. He wondered where she was, what she was doing-

Her face smiled at him from the small frame; a coy twist to her lips, her eyes blazing, sending his tired mind into a wave of uncertain thoughts.

She couldn't have left him…or so he hoped. It was concerning how much he felt for her now. It frightened him at how little time it had taken for that unexpected curiosity to turn from affection to lust and more. He had tired so hard to banish his thoughts, to keep his emotions at bay and still his gaze had lingered. She hadn't even known then, it wasn't even a possible thought to her yet he had continued with his pitiable feelings-inappropriate thoughts and wants.

Then that had changed. She had seen what he had been hiding and instead of repulsion and disgust she had shown her own hidden desires.

It had been so _nice_ to simply let his barriers down and let her in. Perhaps that had been his downfall for now she had crawled her way underneath his skin and there seemed no safe way to remove her. He cared too much. Loved too much.

'_Did you leave me?' _He asked, blankly to himself, expecting no answer from a mere memory and thus he was shocked upright, unsettling the desk, to hear a soft reply,

'_I didn't leave you…I will never leave you. I am still here. Always here.' _

Softly, feather light and brief, he felt the familiar brush of her mind on his and that all he needed. Within that one touch he had felt her love for him, her concern and hope, her never-fading loyalty to him.

'_Sonea…'_

He wanted to reach for her but found himself too weak, his body forcing him into submission. He wasn't sure if she had heard him.

'_Akkarin…I can feel you…' _He felt her joy, her relief, even though he knew she had not heard_, 'You're here. You're safe._'

And he believed her. He sat back down within his chair and listened for any sign or touch from her, fighting to urge to sleep; the dusty haze of dreams clouded his thoughts. He watched Sonea's' frame with heavy eyes, wary yet longing to see her. To have his questions answered.

'_Rest'_

She whispered lovingly, her tone so beautifully captivating with its joy and relief that he obeyed.

This time there was no darkness or blurred edges, just the promise of dreams and in the end; awakening.

_Tick. Dub. _

He rested.

Once again he lost all concept of time. But here he dreamt. Free from darkness and from what he knew now to be death.

He dreamt. He slept. He _lived._

* * *

Within another small room, not so very far away, a young woman sat upon the bed of a sleeping man, crying into his hand which she held and kissed, never taking her eyes from his face. Her sobs of relief soon drew the attention of the on-call Healer and within moments the older woman stood upon the threshold of the room, concern and alarm showing on her pale face.

"Sonea?"

"Vinara," the younger woman whispered, her voice laced with emotion, she turned to her with a smile that transformed her usual mask into one of pure delight, "He's Back."

* * *

**A/N (2):** _Bit longer, hopefully a bit better. BIG Thank you, to you who reviewed, I update for you and to those who faved and alerted, Thank you._

_Hugs and stuff,_

.


	3. The Reward of Patience: Part Two

_**Disclamier:** Do. Not. Own_

_**A/N:** This takes a rather different path to the first post in some areas. I hope its better. You may recognise some parts-it'd be amazing if you did though! This is unbeta'd so any mistakes you find are mine and please tell me of them so I may fix them, currently may eyes are blurry with sleep and I'm mixing my words so this is the best I can do for now. I'll maybe get to return after a good rest. I hope you enjoy!_

_Thank you to those who reviewed! This is for you guys/gals/other! Your reviews really encourage me to get my butt into gear._

* * *

Days pass and slowly the excitement of Akkarin's return to consciousness dims and she is left longing for more; that mere brush of his mind was nothing but a teasing touch that lingered and haunted her. Within it she'd felt his love for her, his concern and affection yet it had been laced with the flare of confusion and anger. He was confused about the events leading to his current situation and from what he remembered, he believed her to have betrayed him, left him for dead.

She had been mess of tears as he'd slipped into the womb of healing sleep. Disturbed by his thoughts yet overjoyed at the touch of his mind, she had sobbed from a consuming mixture of relief and hurt and only after healing her own angst aside did she understand his feelings and thoughts; in his predicament she needed to respect his privacy and not dwell any more on the matter, there was nothing to be done until he awakened. Yet that fear of rejection and hate still remained within her thoughts and tinted her dreams.

Despite this, her health improves as he returns little by little. She grows stronger with each small twitch of his eyelids and shift of his head; soon she grows confident enough to leave him in the care of the wings Healers. She bids him good-bye each time and adds another minute away from him to tend to her own needs; another minute with Rothen and Dorrien, a few extra minutes to finish her evening meals, an extra hour to sleep in the mornings. Her health improves to the relief of many however little problems remain although she is too busy to contemplate them. Morning cramps and brief episodes of light-headedness accompany a poor appetite yet they mean nothing to the news that Akkarin has moved that bit closer to the waking world.

The world around her slowly rebuilds itself and inside she too does the same. The spires of the Guild return against the evening sky and she is there to watch the sun set. And she it forever grateful to Akkarin for this.

She sleeps sloped over his bed next to his warmth and is content as she dreams, secretly longing that someday they will wake together.

O~O~O~O~O

She dreams of a sunset, too beautiful and unworldly to ever be real, casting a golden glow over a small valley, it is magnificent and she watches it from her place by a tall figure in black robes who is not watching the surreal dusk but her and her alone. And in her sleep Sonea smiles.

O~O~O~O~O

She wakes as he remains asleep. She stretches her tired muscles and groans at the jerking protests of her aching back and in his sleep he sighs deeply but remains still, oblivious to it all. Smiling at him, she starts her day as normal; she bids him morning greetings, tells him farewell, she'll see him soon and leaves to tend her morning business, greeting those she meets with tired smiles and small waves.

He remains still, dreaming his pain away as the days and nights wear on.

* * *

"Lady Vinara believes that he will awaken within the next month. She's been monitoring his vitals and says he's almost there, physically at least. Her Healers have tried to call to him but they get the same result as me, his mind has closed off; he still seems quite lost within his thoughts. When I do get through to him, he's not quite himself, just a jumble of disordered memories and emotions; he must be horribly confused…" Despite the sadness and pity that laced her voice, Rothen couldn't help but smile to hear Sonea's light tones drift through the doorway. Knocking politely, he entered the small room to see her guest to be Takan, Akkarin's man-servant. He stood by his former master's' bedside, dressed in uniform befitting his returned servant status, a mixture of happiness and worry marking his tanned features.

Upon seeing Rothen he gave him a short bow. Sonea rose from her place by Akkarin's bedside, smiling tiredly, she made her way to him, wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulders in greeting.

"Thank you," she whispered, "I really appreciate you offering to sit with me tonight."

It was a pleasing way to think of their new arrangement, he thought. He was tonight's escort. The first of many to come. It was a temporary measure they, as Higher Magicians, had agreed on to assure safety within the Guild until Sonea and Akkarin stood before the King once more and had their lives placed in the hands of others. Such thoughts made him feel rather ill and he pushed them aside in favour of holding her tighter.

"It's nothing, I just thought the first night would be easier if it was with someone you knew. "

Pulling away from him, he saw her throw him an amused yet grateful glare as she returned to her seat and he made his way around Takan to sit in the one resting against the opposite wall.

"You should get back to the kitchens, Takan. Lunch is soon. I'll call for you if there's any changes." She paused, her gaze on Akkarin and then she added carefully, "Would you save me something to eat for later? I don't feel hungry just yet but later…"

Hiding his surprise but not his approval at her responsibility he watched as Takan glanced at him knowingly and nodded to Sonea.

"Of course, Lady Sonea." The man in question bowed obediently, both to Sonea and Rothen, before casting the man in the bed a wistful glance and leaving the room, closing the door behind him. The mans mannerism were odd, nationality aside, he behaved rather differently to other Guild servants; Rothen had come to understand that servitude was Takan's life style, a mind-frame, and not an occupation as with Kyralian servants. Sonea had once confirmed this, stating that, 'He knew no other way of life.' To think that Akkarin had once been subject to such a mind-frame, for how little time, still caused a disturbed chill to crawl up his spine.

From across the bed, Sonea watched him tiredly, dazed, a strange smile gracing her pale lips. A forced, exhausted one he had come to recognise over the years.

He smiled back. The silence between them was oddly comforting. It was a simple pleasure to once again sit with her, to see her smiling and happy after the weeks she had spent avoiding them all as she sunk into a depression. He was not blind nor stupid, Rothen knew her as he would a daughter and he could read the signs without Dorrien's poorly concealed hints. He was not happy with what he saw, per se, yet could not find it within himself to put that anger into words nor actions. He was, in some ways, happy for Sonea, yet he had doubts with the situation that he needed cleared and he worried for her. She had been suffering in silence for so long and had been through so much already, he didn't want further harm befalling her.

She was his little girl, his Sonea, and he would have no man, life saving or not, harm her in ways that could be avoided.

"He's just sleeping now." Sonea broke his thoughts quietly, still staring at him, that odd smile flickering. He took time to notice that her skin was not as pale as before, due to her increased time outdoors and the usual dark rings under her eyes were not as deep; good, she was sleeping better. Her well-being continued to improve each day and he was awfully thankful. There had been a time, not so long ago, where he had thoughts of losing her for good.

He nodded, his eyes drawn to Akkarin's' resting form on the bed.

Rothen had mixed feelings towards him. Currently he didn't know how to deal with the younger man. For weeks he had watched and observed how Sonea devoted her time and energy to him; he caught the worry in her voice, the fear in her shaking hands, the hidden touches and longing, heated, looks. He had been young once too, had once been in love and so very lost, not knowing what to do with his feelings; he knew the signs and read them well. He saw that Sonea loved Akkarin and cared very deeply for him. No one could force such devotion and affection. Not when their own well-being rested on the line as well.

Watching the rise and fall of Akkarin's chest, he wondered as he had many times before, if it was purely a matter of loving another, of a woman loving and admiring a man who she looked up to, or was it as Dorrien implied and of her being _in _love with him. At such thoughts he felt a parenting need to know if Akkarin could and would return such feelings if they were so. He felt familiar overprotective anxiety and anger at the possibility that he wouldn't. He disliked Akkarin, he had from the day Sonea had told him their High Lord was a Black Magician; he like so many others had trusted and looked to Akkarin as a leader and that trust had broken and remained as so even though he knew the mans reasons and supported them. He did feel shame at his anger, Akkarin didn't deserve it, even when it was justified. Too many times had this man had taken Sonea from him, too many times had he hurt her already. He was not a good man, he was a murderer, a lawbreaker, an exile. He ignored the whisper in his mind that told him Sonea was all these things too; she was only them because of him.

"I'm so glad, Rothen. He'll be back soon. I know it." Sonea told him, watching as his eyes trailed from Akkarin's face to her own. His kind eyes guarded but he smiled at the hope in her voice.

Rothen was not an arrogant man, he accepted that he owned Akkarin his life for what he had done, for him and for Sonea. For Kyralia. Sonea's improved well-being had spouted from Akkarin's own and he was grateful towards him for that at least. He would thank him for it if Sonea's words were true and he would wake someday. Since the night Akkarin had passed from being in a state of the living dead, Sonea had began to smile again. She began to eat more, joining he and Dorrien for lunch and dinner on occasion, she began to open up once again and spoke freely. She had returned to them and it had been Dorrien who had reminded him that Akkarin was the cause of her smile.

He was still not happy about it though, however grateful he felt.

"Do you think…do you think he'll be angry with me, Rothen?" she whispered.

"I don't know, Sonea." he told her truthfully. "Dorrien has told me that most who wake from such deep periods of rest often have memory loss. Perhaps he will remember none of it."

"He does. I know he does, I've seen it." her voice broke and that odd little smile fell apart, he remained where he was and let her open up, "He hated me, Rothen, he didn't…understand why I left…thought I'd left him to die and I think…I think he hates me."

With a pathetic whimper, she broke apart and her tears fell. In an instant, Rothen rose, his parenting instincts taking over. He made his way towards her and knelt before her, wrapping his arms tightly around her shaking shoulders.

"How can he hate you, my girl, you saved his life, Sonea. Once he wakes, it will be one of the first things he will be made aware of. I'll make sure of it."

"I just want him back. I just want to talk to him. Lords, Rothen, I want to tell him so much. I didn't leave him. I didn't and I haven't."

He simply held her as she sobbed, letting her tears of week-long frustration and fear soak his robes.

"I've wanted him to wake for so long, Rothen, but now…I'm so afraid of what will happen when he does."

"I know."

"I feel as confused as he is, I think."

"I think we all are in ways."

"It hurts, Rothen, in hurts so much sometimes."

"I know…"

"I'm sorry."

"Shush now, you never have to apologize to me."

Within the bed, Akkarin slept on, oblivious to Sonea's pain and tears, lost in a world of memories and dreams. Rothen envied him as he held Sonea, quietly whispering to her and trying to ease her into a state of sleep; for her eyes never left his face through her tears.

* * *

Bidding Rothen and Dorrien nightly farewells, Sonea opened the door leading into the corridor and greeted the young woman standing at the threshold with a tight smile. She quickly informed the Alchemist that she was returning to her room before leading the way there, the other woman's light steps following shortly behind.

'_At least this one is respectful enough.' _she quietly mused, making her way through the entrance hall, passing a group of brown robed novices gathered near the stairwells. Her last escort had been an older Warrior who had followed her around on her daily business, watching her with narrowed eyes as though expecting her to attack anyone who neared her and rather rudely invading her privacy to the point of disturbance. By the end of the day, Sonea had been at her nerves end and had shrilly shouted at him to leave the room and remain by the door until morning, after he had implied she clothe herself for bed with him in the room, under his '_watchful eye.' _Thankfully, she had not seen him since and hoped never to again.

Neither him or the young Healer who persisted in asking her prodding questions concerning sensitive topics she would much rather stay clear from.

Turning from the University steps, she hit the cold air and inhaled deeply, making her way to the pathway trailing to the Healers Quarters she realised that their were just some people who she would just never gain respect from, no matter what she did. She knew most from the houses were reluctant to accept her part in protecting Imardin and saving Akkarin. Since coming to realise this, Dorrien had taken to loudly voicing his anger at the House's in public, much to Rothern's annoyance. He had raved loudly at how the House of Velan had shamed itself by refusing to acknowledge Sonea's part in keeping a member of its proud family alive and would only stop when Sonea reminded him of how Akkarin would react to him belittling his family name once he awoke. She was glad, however, for his support. Dorrien had reset himself by her side as the friend and mentor she needed and she admired him for it, very happy they could remain as such, overcoming his past feelings.

Pausing on the path, she took a moment to herself in the fading evening light, hearing the halt of the other woman's boots behind her. It was late, she had stayed at Rothen's later than she had intended, after the evening meal, and the sun had lowered and a night chill had descended. She watched as the world was cushioned with blue light and for the faintest heartbeat Sonea had felt something close to unrestrained happiness. She stood and watched as the last patterns of white and pink faded from the horizon, the distant silhouettes of the palace towers and city appeared unreal before the last light of dusk faded, letting the nights stars flicker through. It was beautiful in a simple way that befitted her mood, calm and sincere, and it graced her lips with a smile.

She didn't know how long she stood there. But when she came to, extracted from her thoughts by a soft touch on her shoulder, she realised how the chill had crept through her robes, through black layers and into her bones. Her escort smiled slightly at her,

"We should move on. It's cold, Sonea."

She sniffed. Her nose was cold and her fingers throbbed, she nodded in reply, her heart lighter and returned her journey towards the looming building and into heat.

Lady Vinara stood by the doors, greeting her with an uncharacteristic smile. She grinned at Sonea and motioned her forward. Sonea's heart gave an odd skip as she approached the older woman. Vinara wasn't known to grin, nor had she waited on her before. Hope rose to the fore and she smiled anxiously as her arm was taken and she was lead aside from her escort.

"Lady Vinara? What-" she began but was interrupted by Vinara's erect finger pressed against her lips, shushing her.

"Before you get angry or upset, I didn't call you publicly to avoid others listening in and out of respect for your privacy. I was on my way to get you myself when I saw you approaching."

"What's happened? Is everything-"

"Akkarin's showing physical signs of waking. Better than that, I'm sure he'll be awake by morning." She had spend so long waiting on those words yet her mind and mouth failed her. The last few days with him drifted to mind; she knew Akkarin hadn't long before he awoke. He had been gaining strength and each day his responses had increased in intensity. His mind was not penetrable but it was a conscious response, the natural state of his sleeping mind, it was at ease and guarded, no longer a never-ending storm of emotions and memories nor the blank darkness of before.

"His eyes have been flickering all morning but I…I didn't think it would mean so soon…he's been showing responses to touch since last week…I didn't-" Lost for words, she smiled at the Healer, eager and excited, her fears and anxiety submerged beneath her longing to see him awake and to have Akkarin back, to hear him speak and to talk to him.

"I was tending to his evening nutritional liquids," A disgusting potion of essential vitamins and minerals Sonea hoped never to have the displeasure to taste; it was given to those unable to fed themselves or those who had trouble swallowing solid foods, Akkarin had lived on a diet of the stuff since the Invasion. It had kept him alive despite failing to keep his weight up. He remained living, growing in strength yet he had lost great body mass and muscle from his days in sleeping.

"When he started to respond," Vinara continued, "He tried to swallow and clear his throat. He's been still since but given his recent responses I believe we don't have long to wait."

"Do you really believe he'll wake tonight, though? Do you think he'll remember? Vinara this is-oh! Let me see him, can I wait with him?"

The old Healer quirked a dark brow at her,

"What have you been doing all this time, Sonea? As though I could stop you. Go, I need to alert the Higher Magicians. I've a Healer in with him at the mome-"

The rest of her sentence was lost as Sonea smiled and all but ran towards the wing reserved for private rooms, her days escort remained behind, watching after her, blinking.

"You may as well leave," Vinara sighed, "She'll not leave now and I will be with her all night."

The young Alchemist merely nodded in understanding and moved swiftly aside to let the older woman sweep forward from the building.

* * *

At first, he didn't realise he had returned. There was no great revelation or sudden change in being. There was no intense pain or any lingering wariness from healing. There was just a heaviness that has always been, a bone deep solidness that he hadn't been concerned with before, and the pulsing of his heart within his chest, the gush of blood pumping through his ears. His muscles were tense and stiff, his back aching to be cracked and his fingers inching to bend; he needed to stretch, to move and release pent-up energy. But it was hard to move and when he attempted to do so, to move from lying into a sitting position, the strain of simple movement forced a weak groan from his raw throat.

The response is immediate.

All too soon he is aware of others around him, of voices calling his name in concern and alarm, relief edging the tones that seem foreign and familiar all at once. There is movement, the scrape of a chair being pushed back, the soft thud of boots across the floor, the rustle of paper and the fluttering of robes. He somehow knew he is in the Healers Quarters, he understood, somehow, that he had been resting and healing, sleeping away the pain. He was alive and being cared for, there was no pain, only confusion and stiffness; the urge to rise.

His eyes remain tightly shut, stuck together with sleep and his arms weigh him down, as though belonging to another, they do not respond to his commands and stay by his sides. His throat burned and the cool touch of calloused hands, lined with age, on his forehead was welcome, oddly familiar they moved to his neck and chest, their owners voice calmly speaking above him, telling him not to reach for his power store just yet,

"Remain still," she says and he knows that voice. "Wait a little longer, Akkarin."

Concentrating, he felt Vinara's mind brush his own. Instinctively, he formed a room within his mind to greet her; it was plain and simple, devoid of any personal touch, four walls and a door. He opened it and greeted her on the threshold of darkness.

"_Hello, Akkarin." _she smiles and reaches towards him as she steps inside. She is exactly as he remembers, thin and tall, she holds herself with pride, dressed in her Healing robes. He returns her greeting by stepping into her embrace; feeling her quiet joy and her happiness at the touch of his active mind on hers.

"_I'm glad your well, Vinara." _He tells her sincerely, letting his mind and body gently tell her in it's own way that that he was well and ready to rise. She held him tighter for a moment, then pulled back to smile reassuringly at him.

"_Lets get you up, shall we. You've been gone from us for quite a while. We have been waiting for you, Akkarin."_

And in the physical world, he could feel the gentle warmth of a small hand on his arm, light and hesitant, and he didn't need to question who.

* * *

Please review!


	4. Waking

_**Disclamier:** Do. Not. Own_

_**A/N:** __I hope this lives up to expectations and you enjoy it. It's a little later than I planned but longer than what I first intended. Unbeta'd so please notify me to any mistakes._

_Please Review!_

* * *

Giving Akkarins arm a final touch, Sonea stepped shakily away from the small bed as Vinara opened her eyes and looked to her with a confirming nod. She removed her hand from Akkarins chest and began snapping instructions to one of her young Healers, who stood close by the door watching the room apprehensively. Sonea took the moment to turn from the rooms occupants and collect herself. Her nerves and emotions were in shambles and she felt as though a nest of faren had hatched within her stomach.

'This is happening,' she thought unbelievingly, pressing her palms against her cheeks. She frowned in surprise when she felt the trail of fresh tears there. She hadn't realised she had been crying and didn't know whether it was in joy or fear. Both perhaps. A horrible complex mixture of the two that had her hands shaking and stomach swirling. She was glad for both though, both meant she still cared, that after everything, she was still there. She heard Vinara rustling around the room behind her giving out orders and felt a wave of gratitude and respect towards her, knowing that if she were alone she would've been at a loss. She felt rather weak and helpless listening to her, envying her experience to deal with such situations and there was longing there to do the same; to be able to handle situations with a calm and collected mind, ordering unflinchingly with such confidence that none questioned her authority.

'She's so strong.'

She needed to be strong too. For herself and for Akkarin. His presence within the room seemed to have intensified from the moment he began to waken. Whereas before he had merely been a occupant to the room, to Sonea, he had almost become as much apart of the room as the small cabinet and wooden chair yet within a few short minutes he had separated himself from the usual quiet and reinforced his being in the waking world, he was Akkarin again. He was here and he was coming back. He _was_ back.

She could do this. She would.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, she drew strength from Akkarins enhanced presence and turned to face the room once more, just in time to see the young Healer speaking with Vinara nod her head and flee the room, parchment in hand. Her mentor remained and moved around Akkarins bed, reaching under the irons frames to rise the upper section of the mattress up, murmuring softly to him whilst doing so.

"There now, you'll feel much more comfortable sitting after all the time you've spend sleeping, Akkarin."

With a sharp click the iron frame snapped into place and locked, positioning Akkarin's torso upright at a secure slant, although he groaned softly as his muscles pulled and stretched uncomfortable at the new position, the skin around his eyes tightened as he winced. Vinara propped his head up with pillows before moving towards the rooms cabinet, easing Sonea aside, out of the way as she did so, all business, her mouth a fine, determined line.

Sonea barely noticed her.

Seeing him sitting upright in the light of the room, it struck her how much Akkarin had changed in the weeks he'd been bedridden and unconscious, unaware of the world and himself. He is not the High Lord she once feared, she realised, taking in the tight skin around his cheek bones. She'd stopped seeing him as such because he is no longer that man in title nor being. In the faint, dimmed light of Vinara's globe she somehow sees him more clearly than she has in months despite spending each day and night with him, paying attentive, almost delicate detail to him. He hasn't exactly lost that heavy, authoritative allure yet there is just something missing, something almost off-putting. He may _feel_ like before but he certainly doesn't appear so and she suspects many would agree. His high cheek bones have become prominent due to his weight loss and his skin has an unhealthy paleness to it that almost makes him glow in the thin light. His dark hair is longer and tousled, lank against his forehead, it tumbles down to spread over his neck and pillows and his arms too are thinner, the muscle having decreased to the point where she can make out his wrist bone under the stretch of skin.

But he is still very much Akkarin; those are his lips and lashes, that strong jaw and elegant nose have not changed.

And yet she is hesitant to approach him.

Was he truly the same? Would he still be the man she had gotten to know, who she spent her exile with, the one she respected and admired, the man she had began to love or would he have changed, would he regret it now that he had returned to Imardin, to the Guild, to the judging eyes of the Houses or would he remain the same. Would he remember the Invasion as he had within that brief touch of his mind she had felt and hate her…Lords, what if he remembered nothing of their exile, their time together-

"Sonea."

Startled, she jumped as Vinara lay a gentle hand on her shoulder, looking at her with curiosity, she pushed a large glass of cool, clear liquid into her hands.

"Give this to him, he needs it to help re-hydrate the walls of his throat, to help him speak."

Panicking, Sonea shook her head furiously, emitting a strained, soft whine, declining; she almost cried when Vinara frowned in confusion and continued to push the glass into her hands persistently.

"No, No, Vinara, please. I can't. I can't. Just not-not yet. Please." she pleaded in whispers, all too aware of Akkarins alertness as he shifted slightly on the bed.

Reluctantly backing off, the elder woman sighed, her eyes flashing in disappointment as she turned towards Akkarin and made her way to his side.

"Akkarin," she called gently, reaching out to touch his arm, "I need you to drink this," and she raised the rim of the glass to his closed lips which he opened hesitantly, as though unsure. The glass clinked sharply as his bottom teeth touched the rim. His eyes remained lightly shut and his hands by his sides; completely entrusting Vinara with himself.

"It will help your throat so you may speak once more. I dare say there's a lot to be said." Vinara continued softly and slowly tilted the glass until the liquid reached his lips and at once Akkarin began to drink greedily, as though a man dieing of thirst, he gulped down the fluid until not a drop was left. Sonea watched transfixed, as his throat flexed and contracted as he swallowed. It was a little over whelming to see his body move so animatedly after so long of watching carefully for flinches and twitches. Those small signs had brought such relieved delight and hope and now…now here he sat, moving slowly and sluggish, awake though he moved as though still within a dream.

It _was_ so very like one of her own dreams that she felt a childish panic for a brief moment that it actually was and that she would wake by his sleeping side with a sore back.

A sudden rough, broken cough drew her from such maddening unnecessary thoughts and towards Akkarin who had attempted too soon to speak. Vinara returned the glass to its place in the cabinet, giving Sonea's arm a tight comforting squeeze as she passed.

_- 'He'll be as right as rain soon. Though I'm not so certain about you. You seem pale.' _

_- 'I'm fine.' _Sonea sent her in return and brushed her hand off as she stepped away, reluctant to let the Healer know of her inner turmoil.

Vinara seemed to see right through her lie and shot her an unconvinced glare.

"I know it is tempting," she directed to Akkarin, sighing yet choosing to ignore Sonea as she sorted through the cabinet, "But do not reach for your power-store just yet or attempt to heal away any ailments you have. Your body has been healing naturally and it has done splendid work. The best option would be to continue letting it do as such. Let me handle the rest."

Akkarin nodded jerkily in understanding, not knowing Vinara did not see with her back turned and continued to swallow reflexively, meditating on regaining his speech.

Watching him, Sonea wondered if he even knew she was there. Was he angry that she wasn't talking to or helping him and if he did notice, did he care? She wished she still had her blood-ring: it remained in her cloak pocket in the neighbouring room. It could have acted as a source of comfort even if it would have been an invasion of Akkarins privacy. With consuming force the desire to reach out and touch him, to let him know that she was there, rose like a burning flame and she felt tears prickle her eyes. But what if he did not want her there, would she be able to handle his rejection and hate or less cruel yet just as bad, would he be the same towards her as before in the presence of the Guild…

Did it truly matter, she found herself thinking as she slowly stepped towards the bed.

After everything, all that they had been though and done together, did it really matter whether or not Akkarin remained the same towards her. She found herself taking a step back, out of her usual self and found herself strangely open minded to the whole situation.

Her and Akkarin had not always been close, she had _hated _him and she had been nothing but a mere slum girl turned novice to him, an oddity that had fluttered in and out of his life for a period. How or why or even _when_ everything changed still remained a mystery to her yet it _did _change and they had found one another at a time when they both needed it.

He truly was a wondrous man. A passionate and determined one who fought for what he believed in, who gave so much, that he was willing to die for what he held dear. Such strength had always been present, she had once feared his mere being due to it, yet she had been blind to the man underneath that cold allure. Perhaps that was when things changed; after Akkarin told her his past and reasons for learning Black Magic; he lowered himself from the pedestal he was placed upon and showed her that he was _human, _a man, just like any other, who made mistakes and felt regret, who cared and was capable of love.

He had shown her that too, she mused, approaching the bed silently once more. He had shown them all, her in more ways than some yet his true nature had been revealed and he was a creature of complex beauty that she simply wanted to forever have around her. She loved him. She had for quite some time and even though she could not pinpoint it, she had been devoted to him for longer. He had once stood before her and told her he too loved her. He had shared his mind with her, shared his warmth and touch with her, his very breath and sweat. He had made her _feel_ loved and gloriously _woman_. And if all that were to be made void…what of it, would she still continue to love him?

Reaching his bedside, Sonea paused.

'Yes' she thought simply. She would continue to love him. They had shared and given so much that she would never forget any of it; he would forever hold a place within her heart even if such feelings were not returned. They both _survived._ Akkarin was alive and breathing, returning to them and how could she ever deny him his anger when it was so very understandable.

Vinara continued her search through the supplies until she rose with sigh of relief, a small vial of thick brownish fluid in hand. Making her way to Sonea's side she pushed her once again aside and behind her as she spoke to Akkarin.

"Right, now lets see. A good dose of this will ease the muscle cramps your due to experience and most other pains you may feel due to being bedridden for so long,"

At this Akkarin tried to interrupt, most likely to question just _how_ long, Sonea guessed, but to her amusement he was silenced with Vinara's long index finger being pressed against his month.

"Don't, " she warned sternly before removing her finger and replacing it with the vial. "Drink." she ordered. As with before, Akkarin gulped it down and grimaced slightly at the taste and texture.

"Now, Akkarin, can you open your eyes?"

He hesitated and Sonea watched the muscles in his neck contract. They waited in silence for a moment until,

"_No-"_ His voice was a harsh, broken whisper and Sonea's felt her gathering tears fall. Her hand rose to reach for him but Vinara beat her to it and she lightly, with all the care of a Healer, pressed her finger tips to his closed sockets and sent a wash of energy towards were it was needed.

Sonea waited anxiously behind her, watching attentively at each small movement of Akkarins face and body, drinking him in, both pleasure and worry causing her hands to shake.

'This is it.'

A knock at the door signalled the return of the young Healer that Vinara had sent out earlier yet Sonea couldn't take her eyes from Akkarin.

Vinara removed her hands and dimmed her globe light as she moved it to the corner of the room,

"Don't be too brash now," she told him, watching with a critical eye has he slowly eased his eyes open. "They'll be sensitive."

Sonea couldn't breath. She felt like running from the room and grabbing Akkarin at the same time. She wanted to see his eyes again. Weren't they dark brown? She panicked, or was it dark green? Blue?

Nonsense, she thought, shaking her head forcefully. She was being foolish. Lord's, Akkarin would tease her for it…or he once would have, she added sadly.

A brush of cloth next to her made her glance and she met the concerned eyes of Rothen. Confused, she was about to question him when she realised he must have arrived with the Healer; Vinara had told her she'd alerted the Higher Magician's to Akkarins progress. And Rothen, dear, sweet, fatherly, Rothen was now Head of Alchemy-

His hand brushed hers reassuringly and she gave him a watery smile in thanks, knowing he was there for her and her alone. She held his hand and squeezed tightly, returning her gaze to Akkarin.

Only to find his dark eyes watching her.

Her breath fled her lungs and she gasped, eyes widening, his name on her tongue when he blinked and his gaze pasted over her to Vinara and Rothen in turn. He frowned and shook his head as though to clear it. Underneath the blankets, he was moving his toes.

"_Hazy"_ he croaked and closed his eyes tightly. Vinara nodded in understanding and informed him that it would take a moment for his sight to adjust. Akkarin sighed, a odd dry sound and reopened his eyes, first the left then right and Sonea could see that they were, indeed, unfocused and unusually blank.

"Anything else apart from your eyes? Any other ailments, minor or detrimental?" Vinara muttered.

Akkarin shook his head and remained staring, a deep frown creasing his brow, a grimace to his lips. Sonea could feel her knees shaking as she watched him. Her nest of faren creatures had returned and threatened to crawl up her throat.

'Please.' she silently begged him. 'Please. Please. Look at me. See me. I'm here, I always have been.'

Rothen brushed his thumb across her knuckles in comfort yet it did nothing to help her.

Slowly, Akkarin's eyes began to refocus with each blink and Sonea shamefully wished he could hurry up, she longed for closure, for a chance to talk, for _him_.

'If he looks to me with hate and anger,' she instructed herself, breathing deeply, 'then so be it. I will tell him all that he wishes to hear and then…we shall see…'

However she could not stop the tears from falling and trailing down her cheeks and she lowered her head in an attempt to hide them.

Why did she have to be so emotional where Akkarin was concerned.

She forced herself to breathe; inhale, exhale, repeat and pushed the panic and fear down with a small wash of magic, instantly feeling the difference, she felt lighter and stronger; more like herself yet the crying continued, uncontrolled; it felt a relief to let them fall silently.

There was a rustle of movement and a broken, harsh whisper and she fell apart at her name being ripped from his lips.

~O~O~O~O~O~

He'd felt her in the room the moment he awoke.

Sonea's unique presence had burned itself deep into his senses and he could feel her there even though she had backed away from him and remained silent. He was not angry nor upset with her doing so, relieved possibility, that she was not fussing over him and letting Vinara work; he wanted up, he wanted to be able to speak and see as soon as possible and with Vinara fluttering about him knew he would not have to wait long. Sonea's interference would have only prolonged Vinara's progress. Sonea would know as such, she was a Healer by heart if not by title. However he was not blind to the inch of disappointment curling through his stomach.

It was a relief to sit, to have his back arched that small degree and feel the tinge of mixed pain and pleasure as his muscles stretched. Throughout his body, his bones ached and muscles stung in the first tingles of cramping yet he couldn't find it within himself to care. He was confused, unsure of how he had gotten there; he had been injured, that much was clear and he could tell that he had been recovering for a very long time, the stiffness of his muscles reminding him at each attempt to move. Casting his mind back he was greeted with simple darkness and fog, tenderly laced with the fading flickers of dreams and distorted memories; he reached out and grabbed one that drew his attention with a familiar face.

Kariko, sneering down upon him, his dark hand raised to finish him as he lay in a pool of his own blood.

Yes, he had been injured. From the memory the glittering gems of the knife imbedded within his chest shone.

Yet he was still alive and Kariko…the Ichani were _gone._

The memory was short and soon faded from his grasp back into the fogy depths of his mind. It was unpleasant to remember being so weak and helpless, to be at the mercy of his enemy on the brink of death-

_-Tendons of darkness wrapping firmly around him, caressing him, encaging him_ _within a void of nothingness and shadow, alone and confused, trying, trying, trying desperately to remember and make sense of how or why-and his heart was beating and pumping, his senses taking the room in around him, he wasn't alone, her mind was brushing his, just outside consciousness, her hand on his-and he smiled within the darkness of their room, sighing in pleasure at her soft meows and heated breath on his face, the sun setting through the window, beautifully tranquil and _right _and_ unreal_-_

Unease filled him and he returned to the room as Vinara instructed him to drink and discouraged him from touching his power source. His eyes still remained heavy with lassitude and it was tempting to simply heal it away. He knew Sonea was there, he could feel her and it killed him not to see her. To literally be left in the dark and out of the loop.

Was she well, was she all right and healthy. Had she too been injured? He could not remember, she had been exhausted and pale, panicked and full of despair in his memories of her.

Vinara left his side once more and Akkarin could feel Sonea's eyes watching him, yet he had no knowledge as to what she was feeling or if she was even as he remembered her. How long had passed since the Invasion, how long had been dreaming.

Lord's the remaining flashes of his dreams teased him; impossible combinations of desires and longings editing his memories, making his head buzz with confusion, not knowing what was real and what as purely from his own selfish mind. Within them all, Sonea was well, was happy and content; that spitfire, full of fierceness and determination, dark eyes and pale lips. His mind's image of her remained the same and he felt the fear that she had somehow changed in the time he had been recovering and moved on with her life. Yet there were ghosts of warmth on his skin that told him his worries were for not.

'She never left me.'

Small steps towards as bed confirmed it. Yet he found it hard to smile and put it down to his unused facial muscles.

~O~O~O~

His vision was blurred and with each blink Akkarin felt as though his eyes were covered in sand, the discomfort burning enough to make them water, however he could see somewhat, enough to know that three people stood around him and that Vinara's magic was taking effect. The faces were distorted yet the colours remained and he could make out Vinara's green healing robes in the, thankfully, dimmed light and the dark purple of an Alchemist who he took to be Sarrin due to the darker sash. Sonea was harder yet easier to make out, it was her pale face that drew his attention and only after focusing could he make out her darker robes in the dim. With only her complexion and blurred body language to go by, it was enough, and he could see that she was too pale, frail and to his surprise, she was crying, her head lowered, shoulders jerking.

Relief clashed with grief at that sight of her and he could not submerge the longing to reach out to her through his pain, ignoring the stiff protests of his muscles; they had loosened enough under the effects of Vinara's last potion and he could move his cold toes.

"Sonea." he whispered, his voice cracked with disuse yet filled with a longing he hoped she would recognise.

With a sob, she looked to him, blinking tears, her lips parting in a soft sigh of held breath. Through blurred eyes she took in his out-stretched hand reaching for her and slowly, tentatively as though expecting him to snap it back, she too reached for him, letting Rothen's hand drop silently to his side.

A small step forward and she was there, by his side once more and grasping his hand tightly, the warmth of her making Akkarin's stomach jerk pleasantly and his chest tighten with suppressed emotion. At her shaking touch, his lips quirked into a small, content smile. Sonea's cheeks were flushed, her eyes rimmed red and slightly swollen, a trail of tears marrying their way down to drop from her chin.

"Akkarin," she breathed, staring at him and their entwined hands in disbelief and awe.

Those dark eyes remained the same, he noticed, her voice though weak and low, was as he remembered, her petite frame and pale skin; all the same, she shone to him as she had done before and he pulled her hand to his dry lips, placing a linger kiss to her knuckles, ignorant to the others present within the small room, they could be thanked and dealt with later. Sonea however, could not. With his eyes, refocused and clear, he thanked her from his heart, hoping she could understand and see.

_- "Thank you," _he told her, opening his mind and letting her sense his thoughts and feel his gratitude,

_- "Thank you, Sonea. Thank you. You wonderful woman…thank you…"_

She could feel his dishevelled mind and his confusion,, his joy and relief as well as his concern and love for her all at once and over whelmed, she broke; the choking tightness within her chest increased and she threw her arms tightly around his shoulders, sobbing into his neck, comforted when she felt him attempt to wrap his arms around her.

It felt so good to hold him again, to feel the rise and fall of his chest against her breast as his breath touched against her neck. His warm body and arms settled around her and she felt a great sense of security and protection as his presence washed over her. She felt safe and not so alone anymore. She had dreamt about this for so long that it didn't truly feel real. But it was, she told herself and through her tears and turning emotions, she smiled happily, breathing a laugh which Akkarin shared.

Watching them, Rothen felt his heart throb painfully and a great sense of unease rose within his chest. It was unsettling to see Akkarin holding his Sonea, his little girl; he couldn't remember a time he'd seen Akkarin greet anyone with anything more than a brief, professional handshake or nod. It only confirmed his fears but seeing Sonea smile and hearing her laugh, he couldn't bring himself to interfere in their reunion.

Catching his eye, he saw Vinara give him a understanding nod as she stepped away from the bed. He followed her to the door, noticing that the other younger Healer had left.

"I think that clears a few things up, don't you." she murmured quietly, watching for his reaction. He merely nodded and continued to watch as Akkarin moved closer to Sonea and closed his eyes against her neck.

"I…had my suspensions, I cannot say I am truly surprised. Worried. Quite bewildered and slightly angry but…" he paused, wondering just how much the elderly Healer by his side knew and realised.

"I have watched her from the beginning, Rothen," she concurred softly, "I've seen enough to understand and I've had the time to contemplate and accept it. Though I fear for them, not many others will be so open minded and understanding."

"I know."

"Their situation is direr and delicate enough as it is without any other issues adding to them."

"I know, Vinara. Trust me, I've lost many nights of sleep worrying and fearing this."

"She was his novice, you know the-"

"Yes," he hissed, getting angry with her unneeded persistence, "I understand all too well yet I find it hard to care when I see her so happy. After everything, she deserves some peace and settlement."

She continued to watch him with her calculating gaze, her mouth a stern line. Running her eyes over him once last time, she shot the couple one last look laced with pity before turning from his side.

"Call me, and me alone, if there are any other problems, Akkarin, Sonea. Lord Rothen and I have a meeting to attend." Throwing Rothen one last stern look over, she strode from the room, shaking her head.

Akkarin slowly released Sonea, who hastily wiped away her tears as though just noticing them as she looked to him. Akkarins dark eyes moved over his face in surprise and Rothen found his confusion lightly amusing,

'A lot as changed since his return' he thought, giving Sonea a small smile, 'He has a lot to be informed of.'

Deciding it best to let Sonea have the time she'd desired for so long to talk to Akkarin, Rothen nodded politely to him, eyeing him cautiously.

"Call me if you need anything, Sonea. I'm never far."

She nodded and turned her gaze back to Akkarin and he took this as a dismissal.

He did not want to keep the other Higher Magicians waiting. Nor Darryl or Dorrien for that matter.

It was late and he knew he would not sleep this night. Perhaps it had been a mistake to accept their offer; being a Head of Discipline was draining enough without Sonea to watch over.

~O~O~O~O~O~

"I'm sorry," Sonea gushed as the door shut softly behind Rothen and Akkarin turned back to her, "Akkarin, I-the invasion, I didn't leave I-I did but it was to-"

He cut her off with a tug on her arm, urging her to sit on the bed with him. He hadn't understood or liked the anger in Rothen's eyes but didn't wish to dwell on it, Sonea demanded his attention as she started to tear up once more. Silly girl, he thought and lifted a hand to her cheek in a caress that seemed to do more harm than good.

"I'm sorry." she whispered, leaning into his touch. It pulled at his chest to see her so frail, he had never seen her as such in the time he'd known her; her upbringing in the harshness of the Slums had always been present in her fierceness and determination making her a strong woman and to see her crying…it tore something within him and the need to comfort and return her to her formidable glory swam through his veins.

"Sonea," he called softy, his voice still not returned to it's usual silken tones, "What could you have done that requires your apologises."

Her eyes widened suddenly and her tears eased as she removed her cheek from his hand to look at him.

"Akkarin," she began tentatively, "What exactly do you remember? Do you-do you remember the invasion? Facing Kariko?"

"Yes," he nodded, frowning in concentration as he thought back, "I remember fighting by you and then…I was injured, Kariko's blade-how did-"

"He tricked us, Akkarin," she told him bitterly, "He threw it to the ground and rose it as we passed over it. You were…stabbed in the chest…"

"I remember…I couldn't move." No, the pain had been too sudden and intense. He could vaguely remember pulling her down as he collapsed and then-what…lights-no, the flare of heat-strikes and the intensity of force-strikes passing against the sky… He sent Sonea the image, asking for confirmation and she hummed in reply, resending her own image of the same memory only it was from her point of view and much clearer.

"Rothen and Lord Balkan stood above us with Dorrien. When they'd seen that you were injured they combined their remaining strength to hold off the Ichani…I was too-I couldn't…there was so much blood, Akkarin."

She broke off, turning from his piecing gaze, guilt and shame twisting her stomach unpleasantly. How had she found the strength to pull herself from him that day, how had she left not knowing she would make it back in time; it had been a stupid, daring risk that had, thankfully, paid off but what if it hadn't. These were not her first thoughts on the matter, her dreams had been plagued by them for weeks. The horrible truth was that she truly believed that she would have given up on life if she hadn't Akkarin to watch over and return to. She couldn't imagine handling her situation as well and calm as she had without him to come back to at night to anchor her. She had suffered depression in the weeks from the invasion yet it hadn't consumed her, thanks to Akkarins still presence within his small room.

He had saved her as much as she had saved him the day of the invasion.

Reaching out, Akkarin brushed her mind with his own, concern edging his presence.

"I made a foolish decision that day, Akkarin, and I'm sorry for it." she answered his prods softly, a sad smile gracing her lips, "I did leave you there. I left you dieing and at Kariko's mercy under the weak protection of Balkan and Rothen."

-And then he was there again, the day of the invasion, watching through Sonea's eyes as she looked from his bloodied, fallen form to the three magicians above. Through their connection he could distantly feel the panic and horror she had felt then, the confusion and sudden determination as she pushed herself to her feet and away from him.

"I had to, Akkarin, I could see no other way. I took the last resort and made for the Arena."

-A glimpse of the looming shadow of the Arena and the immerse flow of power running through her fingertips, quaking her bones and making her skin hum as it swan through her veins.

"Kariko…he must had thought you dead for he did not touch you after I had left. He was about to though as I reached you…"

"Yes," he replied, lost in memories, sense and order restoring itself within his mind's hallways; frames appeared and snapped into place in order of events. With a wash of finality he realised, with the last frame and memory, that he had passed out and been restored from the brink by Sonea. She had saved him. Within himself, he had known as such deep down, buried beneath the layers of darkness and distorted dreams.

"I tore through Kariko as he rose his hand to finish you and once I reached you, I healed you as best I could and forced you back to life…I'm sorry, Akkarin."

"Don't be ridicu-" he began to argue when cold realisation settled in.

Sonea watched as his face went slack for a heartbeat and then he was once again holding her tightly,

"Sonea, you silly girl, I am the one who should be apologising!" he whispered feverishly into her hair, bewildered she could only gladly return his hold, "I am the one who needs to apologise, I was the one who left. This whole ordeal was my burden to bare and I dragged you into it. That is something I will never forgive myself for and in the end, I fell and left it upon your shoulders to finish."

"Not this again, Akk-"

"No! This is different." He pulled away to look into her eyes, "How long, Sonea? How long have you sat by me, worrying and making yourself ill."

"I am not ill." She protested but it failed to deter him. He was getting angry as she'd suspected he would but his anger was turned towards himself.

It was oddly bizarre to be sitting there arguing together as they once had before. She wasn't frightened by the anger on his face or the waves of displeasure and self-hate he radiated. It was comforting in a strange way.

"I was _our _burden to share, Akkarin, I made it mine with the decision to help you. I'm not going through all this again when there's nothing to be done about it now."

He stared at her for the longest time, simply tracing her face with his eyes, the intensity of his gaze making her shiver and blush.

"We're both alive." she whispered, "You survived and the Ichani are gone…it's over…"

'_It's over' _

Years of solitude spent suffering and fighting in silence. The burden he'd carried home from the depths of Sachaka, it's weight baring down upon his shoulders, he'd carried it alone for years, built his adult self and life around it. What did it mean for him now that it was over…he could not even say that what he felt was a form of relief. He felt shaken, lost in many ways but…he was not alone now. Sonea remained stubbornly by his side…

Sonea could only watch as Akkarin remained silent and withdrew into his own thoughts, his eyes remaining on her yet distant, unseeing. She felt her chest tighten. She did not want silence, not now when it wasn't necessary; she'd spent two months sitting by Akkarin's side in silence.

So, she broke it. She settled herself comfortable on his bed, lifting her right leg up, and she told him of those weeks she had sat there with him.

"You were very unresponsive in the first few weeks after the Invasion. We healed your physical wounds and you were, medically, fine yet your mind…well, we couldn't reach you. It was as though you weren't there and that had truly frightened me." She paused, watching for a response that she never received, she was not, however, deterred, "You were comatose and unreachable until twenty-one days ago when I felt your mind reawaken. You've been sleeping since then, healing and resting and slowly waking. It's been two months since the Ichani invaded and we've done lots so far in terms of rebuilding and restabilising order…"

She told him everything and anything from the essential,

"From what I've been told, the King is taking extra caution concerning Sachaka. He has forbidden merchants from travelling beyond the Steel Belt Ranges and increased security at the remaining forts…Lord Balkan has been made temporary High Lord," She slipped in, wondering how he would react to this. It seemed to draw him back from is thoughts and he looked at her curiously,

"Balkan?" he considered, "Yes, that would be wise. Who is his replacement?"

To her days back at the Guild and her activities since her own recovery, she spoke never really expecting him to answer, simply pleased to be able to talk to him, knowing he heard her,

"I was only exhausted, I had a mere two days rest before I was back on my feet…I've watched over you since…making sure you were all right and well…yes I'm fine now, tired and if not a little ill the odd time but that's expected…Rothen's been made Head of Alchemy, as you saw. He deserves it but I think the extra workload is taking its toll of him…Dorrien is still here, helping with the rebuilding and working the odd hour to make up for the lack of available Healers…Dannyl is still here too…"

Sonea talked for hours, telling him two months worth of information and gossip; her quiet, tender tones filling the silence of the small room. Akkarin was grateful for her and he asked questions here and there which Sonea did her best to answer.

"We're not really apart of the Guild just yet." She told him, "We've not actually been reaccepted as citizens of Imardin…I believe the Higher Magicians were waiting for your return until anything was drawn up."

"We will stood before a Hearing once more, Sonea."

She nodded and sighed,

"I've not thought of much more than having you awaken nor have I tried to find out much about our current standing within the Guild. We just don't have one…I have an escort, though and if I travel during the day I must be in the company of a full Magician…It's quite irritating but sometim- "

Akkarin interrupted her by raising his hand to touch her cheek once more, making her breath catch in her throat and her cheeks flush. He was smirking softly at her, his thumb tracing her lips and-oh! That look-his eyes burning in not-quite lust yet shining all the same. Slowly, softly, ever-so-silently, he eased her face towards his until his breath met hers. She had all but stopped breathing though and he stole whatever she had left by touching his lips to hers, kissing her gently.

"Thank you, Sonea. You've done so better than anyone else could have." He whispered against her and she responded by reaching out to touch his own cheek, feeling the light stubble there.

Together, they sat throughout the night, unseeing as the moon passed and starlight waned, talking, familiarising themselves with the other, both grateful for the others presence and warmth. She told him everything and he listened intently, taking in each detail of her face and when he noticed the dark circles under her eyes, he stopped her chatter and told her to sleep.

"Rest," He said, pulling her small frame onto the bed by his side, "It's late and we can talk more in the morning." Then he added, smirking, "I'll take watch."

Sonea complied, laughing slightly at the memory. She pulled her wary self up beside him and he curled around her, tight for room on the small bed. She had never lay there as such and it felt dream-like to do so. Yawning she realised just how exhausted she was.

"I missed you." She told him quietly, turning into his chest and the warmth he emitted. She felt so very safe there, his arms around hers, her joy consumed her and yet, hidden beneath it all, there remained a discomfort; a swirling in her stomach that she chose to ignore.

"I'm glad to be back, Sonea. Now rest."

She did and it didn't take long for sleep to take her tired mind into its warm depths.

Her smile remained and did not diminish.

O~O~O~O~O

In the fading darkness of the room, Sonea sleeps soundlessly and dreamlessly; safe and content for the first time in weeks.

Akkarin however, remains awake and still, his muscles throbbing gently from remaining stiffness and lassitude. Within the growing light of dawn, as she sleeps, he lets go and grieves silently. He lets his tears fall, knowing none will see.

He grieves for his losses-_Lords, Lorlen! Gone, gone for good, leaving with a smile-_and his return, for his failings and achievements-_he is alive despite injury, he rose from the darkness to a world without Ichani and_ _burden_-but most of all, he grieves for the loss of a man he once knew and was: himself.

O~O~O~O~O

* * *

Well?

.


End file.
